


All You'd Ever Want

by lavishsqualor



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-27
Updated: 2012-12-27
Packaged: 2018-05-29 11:38:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,973
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6373234
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lavishsqualor/pseuds/lavishsqualor
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It wasn't Dean's fault that they were snowed in. He'd even arranged things so that they'd be together, and alone, over the holiday.</p>
            </blockquote>





	All You'd Ever Want

**Author's Note:**

  * For [mickeym](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mickeym/gifts).



"Fuck this, Dean."

"What, Sammy? It's not a big deal."

Sam looked out the open door of the cabin, but all he could see was a wall of snow as high as his chest and more coming down still. He slammed the old wooden door shut. "Not a big deal?" he said. "This was supposed to be our first Christmas toge–"

Dean raised an eyebrow, questioning, but Sam knew it was too late. Dean had to know damn well what he was going to say. 

It was childish, getting angry about something that was so beyond their control, Sam knew that. He couldn't help it though, so he made his way to the lone bedroom, trying not to stomp, trying not to act like a little kid no matter how pissed off he was. It wasn't Dean's fault that they were snowed in. He'd even arranged things so that they'd be together, and alone, over the holiday. 

Sam just couldn't stand it when things were ruined by the weather. It'd been a long time since he'd been so angry, too, since he'd felt so hopeless and out of control and unable to reign in his anger. 

He flopped down on the double bed and rolled onto his side, pulled the quilt up over his shoulders, and settled in to mope.

 

 

Things had been rough for a while, but for the past half year or so, life had been good. They'd been together on the road, all three of them, Dean, Dad, and Sam, and Arizona had been left behind. 

The one good thing that had come out of that place was how things had changed between Dean and Sam. Sam knew that he'd always meant more than anything, more than life to Dean, but Dean hadn’t always been the best at showing that. Yeah, he'd be the first to drop to the ground when Sam skinned his knee, blowing on a scrape and kissing it better; he'd always shared the last of the Lucky Charms; he'd taken the time to teach Sam everything about life, everything about how to live that was worth knowing; and he'd always made certain that holidays like Christmas and Sam's birthday were celebrated, even if Dad was too busy to notice.

But those were kid things.

Sam hadn't realized it right away, but things had gotten weird between them at some point along the way. Dean wasn't as affectionate, not as easy to share a touch, not as loose with his words. Sam figured it was just some teenage angst, some change that occurred in Dean that made it uncool to show his feelings. 

Maybe that had been it. But maybe the timing had been more related to Sam's pubescence. 

Whatever it was, it was over. Sam was sixteen, now, and Dean was nearing twenty-one fast. And when Sam had been pushed too far by that bully in Wilcox, Arizona, when he'd admitted to Dean that they'd gotten to him, that they actually were right about him liking guys, Dean had been there for him. He hadn't shied away, hadn't freaked out or hassled Sam for it; he'd understood. Completely, in fact. It was like they weren't lying anymore, not to each other, at least. 

And the progression from there had been the most natural and normal thing Sam had ever felt. 

When they'd woken that morning in the desert after taking off out of Wilcox, Sam balled up and leaning into Dean, Dean curled around him, the kiss Sam had felt on his forehead the night before was mimicked. This time on the mouth. Tender, just a soft, dry touch of Dean's lips, and that was it. But it was more than enough, and it said everything.

Things hadn't been the same since.

 

 

"What's this?" Sam asked as soon as he walked out from the bedroom, bare feet dragging over the smooth hardwood floor.

"It's Christmas," Dean said.

Sam shook his head, but he took in the room, all Dean had done while he'd been asleep, or, you know, faking sleep. "Where'd you even?"

There were swags of pine on the window, over the fireplace, and the top of a tree was propped in the corner; Sam could smell the crisp evergreen. Though it was already getting dark, he was pretty sure he could see a string of popcorn wrapped haphazardly around the tree as well. A few lit candles were stuck along the windowsill, a couple on the mantle, and two more on the side table tucked up against the couch. 

The wood that was burning in the fireplace was smoking something pretty fierce, it had to have been damp, but it was perfect. Everything was perfect. 

A huge smile pretty much overtook Sam's face.

From his seat in the middle of the couch, Dean said, "Now quit moping and get your scrawny ass over here," but he was smiling too. 

Sam's step was almost a hop-skip because of his giddiness over Christmas, over what Dean had done. He plopped onto the couch next to Dean, almost in his lap, laughs bubbling out all around. 

Dean tugged Sam in closer, wrapping an arm around him. "So, Sammy, what was it that you wanted for Christmas again? I can't quite remember." 

Sam sat up, right in Dean's face, and kissed him square on the lips. "Come on, Dean," he said. "As if you could forget."

Dean's smile turned sly, knowing. Of course he didn't forget; Sam had been hassling him for ages for only one thing. Once they'd started, well, whatever it was that they'd started, things had progressed fast, but Dean was holding out on Sam, and Sam had been begging Dean for sex for months. He was ready for it. 

"So you're finally going to fuck me?" Sam said.

"No," Dean said. "That's not how it's going to be."

Sam balked. "But Dean–"

Dean cut him off. "No. Because you're going to fuck me."

Silence, except for a crackle-snap from the fireplace, and Sam's eyes grew huge and dark. It wasn't what he'd been expecting, wasn't what he thought he’d been wanting, but god, if that was how Dean was going to let it happen, he could definitely make it work. 

Sam all but jumped Dean, grabbed him bodily and threw him down on to the floor, throwing a leg over and straddling Dean. So fast, Dean's face showed his surprise, but when Sam ground his hips into Dean, Dean smiled, sort of shy, and chewed down on his lower lip. 

"Come on, Sammy," Dean said. "Get me ready for you."

Holy fuck, yes, Sam could do that. 

Sam twisted his fingers in the hem of his own shirt, already fumbling, too excited, but managed to lift it up and over his head. The next second, he had his hands on Dean, sliding his palms up under Dean's shirt, needing to get to skin. He felt a small shiver run through Dean as he slid Dean's shirt up to reveal his chest, his nipples, dark brown and slightly flushed. Sam zoned in on them, one little peak between each thumb and forefinger, tugging until they were rock hard and tender, until Dean moaned loud. Sam scraped his hands down Dean's chest and over his stomach, hard but still the perfect amount of soft, warm under his fingers. He fumbled with Dean's buttons, his damn button fly, such a piss poor choice of pants for today, but got the first and popped the rest open fast.

Dean was hard, already, that much was apparent, obvious by the hard, fat line in his boxer briefs. Sam got his hand on Dean's dick and squeezed, _hard_ , just that side of too painful, just the way Dean liked it. He didn't want to let go, couldn't, kept tugging as he pulled Dean's jeans down with his other hand, and then his underwear.

Dean said to get him ready, and Sam knew how he'd want to be gotten ready—ever since he and Dean had started messing around, when he could find a spare moment on a semi-private computer, like one in a library that had a screen that wasn't exposed to the whole place and that lacked a net nanny, he'd done a little researching. He'd just do the same for Dean.

Sam leaned down and licked a stripe up Dean's dick, and back down, licked down the seam of his tight sack and then lower, until he was nosing at Dean's balls, tonguing his taint. As he got lower, closer, he pushed Dean's legs up higher, palming Dean's thighs up and over his shoulders to keep them back. 

Dean squeaked, literally squeaked, and Sam imagined that it was because he felt so exposed. Sam didn’t let up with his tongue, though, just snaked it down until he got to Dean's hole, flicking and teasing at the rim. Another squeak-like sound from Dean, and then a moan, as Sam breeched him, tongue firm, exploring. 

He pulled away, could barely make himself, but he just had to look. Dean's eyes were fluttering, near closed, and his mouth was open a little, in that way he got when he was feeling overwhelmed, almost overcome. He looked absolutely amazing, like he was already breaking apart, like everything Sam had ever wanted.

Sam bent back down to lick at Dean again, spitting a little to get things real nice and wet. He loved it, absolutely loved making Dean squirm on his tongue.

Later, Sam thought, he wanted to spend some serious time doing just that. Hours, maybe. 

Now, he needed to get things going, though, so he brought a hand down from Dean's leg and slowly, gently pushed his forefinger in alongside his tongue. It was tight, so tight, and _warm_. Dean's insides clamped down around him, squeezing tighter against the invasion, but Sam kept pushing, millimeter by millimeter, until he had his finger in to the second knuckle.

He wiggled his finger against the force bearing against it, and Dean said, "Nngh." 

Sam pulled back to say, "Yeah, Dean? How's that?"

"More, Sammy." Dean breathed out, a huff of air so strong Sam felt it blow against his face. "Give me more."

"Yeah," Sam said. "Yeah. Can do that."

He leaned down to spit at Dean again, pulled his finger out to lick at it and the next, tasting Dean and loving it. Two fingers, now, pushing in slow. There wasn’t any more room left for his tongue, but he licked around the edge, the taste the headiest thing he'd ever had. It was fucking addictive. 

He pushed in farther, deeper, until Dean was moaning, until he was wriggling on Sam's fingers, pushing back at him, using his body to ask for more, begging in a way he couldn’t with words. 

Sam could give him more. He inched his fingers out, then fucked his fingers back in. Did it again. And again. 

"Yeah," Dean said. "Come on."

Sam didn't hesitate at all, pulled out completely, and added a third finger, twisting deep, hard, quick. "Fuck," he said.

Dean said, "Fuck yeah," and brought his hands up from where they had been grappling at the thin carpet strewn over the floor in front of the hearth to hold his legs up, to spread them even wider. "Give it to me, Sam. Come on." Sam fucked in harder, and faster, and felt the sweat that was slowly collecting on his back drip into a line to match that making its way down the center of Dean's chest.

"No, no more." Dean panted, near breathless, then said, "Come on and get your dick in me." 

Sam said, "'Kay. Yeah, okay," and scrambled at his buckle. Without taking his hand away, without even slowing his pace, he popped the button on his jeans and pulled his zipper down, yanked his pants and boxers down his thighs in one sweep. He gripped his cock tight in his hand and trailed the head down the seam of Dean's leg where his thigh met his groin. 

Dean's breaths got louder yet, little puffs of air escaping his chest, and he said, "Lube, Sam." Sam tilted his head, cocking an eyebrow, and Dean said, "Couch." 

Reluctantly, Sam pulled his fingers out of Dean, bringing a squelching noise with them, and god, Sam wasn't sure how something so disgusting could be so hot at the same time, causing his dick to twitch against his stomach as he crawled the couple of feet towards the couch, reached into the crack between the two oversized pillows. Separated by Dean by just a few feet, and Sam's bearings came back to him. He took the time to stand and shook his hips to lose his jeans, at the same time asked, "Condom?"

"Nah," Dean said, and Sam's dick jumped again. He gripped it at the base as he fell to his knees, because goddamn, fucking _Dean_. With his other hand he popped the cap on the tube of lube, splurged some down his length, and ran his hand up then down to spread it out. 

He kneeled in close, running his wet fingers up and down Dean’s crack, dipping in to his heat. Dean arched against him and brought his legs back up, said, "Sammy." 

"Yeah, Dean," Sam said. And as he touched the tip of his cock to Dean's hole, Dean all but growled, "Now."

Now. Sam could make that happen. He inched his hips forward and gripped Dean's hips tight, pulling him in. "Oh _fuck_ ," he said, as the crown of his cock popped forward into Dean, through his hole and into clutching warmth. 

Dean dropped his head to the floor, eyes falling closed, and said, with effort, "Keep going." So Sam did. He tried his damndest to keep it slow, steady, but as he lowered his hands to the ground, one on either side of Dean, he pushed in deep, to the hilt. 

"Oh god, Dean."

"Hey," Dean said. Sam looked up, met Dean's eyes, just inches apart, and met Dean's lips when Dean raised his head. Dean kissed him, soft but deep, gentle but hungry, then bit down on Sam's lower lip as he pulled away. He smiled up at Sam and said, "Ready for you, Sam. Want it."

And Sam knew now that that was exactly what he'd been wanting, waiting to hear. 

He pulled back and out, slow as before, before plunging back in. " _Fuck_ ," Dean said, but Sam couldn’t manage more than grunting Dean's name. 

Sam had never, _never_ imagined that this could feel so good. He'd given it thought, yeah, and he knew he'd be blown away regardless, but the combination of the tightness of Dean, of the heat and the wet, it was almost too much. Not to mention the way Dean's body just seemed to want to keep him in, clenching so impossibly tight along Sam's length as he withdrew. 

On his next thrust in, Sam dropped his head, brought one arm around and under Dean's shoulders to grasp at the back of his head, to thread his fingers through the short, sweat-drenched hair there. He crooked his face into Dean's neck, mouthed at his shoulder, the flexed-out muscles jumping under Dean's skin, and lost all control of whatever was coming out of his mouth. "Oh god, Dean," he muttered. "Oh god. It's so much. Too much."

Sam reached a hand down, raised his hips just enough to tuck it between them, and grabbed for Dean's dick. "Sammy, no," Dean said. "Just you. Just want to feel you."

Dean let go, dropping his head back down to the floor again, and Sam completely gave up trying to hold himself together. He pounded into Dean, fucking him deep, fucking him hard and fast. And then harder. And as Dean said, "Yeah, Sam. Yeah, give it to me," he fucked him even faster. 

It was too fast, and it was too much. Dean said, "Gonna– Sam, I'm gonna–" and Sam bit down on Dean's pulse point just as he felt Dean's dick begin to shoot. Wet, warm come leaked out as Dean's body shuddered, as his ass got inexplicably tighter, clenching and clenching, until Sam couldn't hold back, until he had to let go. 

It had been building since this started, since he first got his mouth on Dean, a shiver-tingle, and when his orgasm hit, his whole body stuttered through it. Sam rode it out, his cock sluicing through come, through his own warmth stuffed up into Dean's heat, and then came down to Dean's sex-stupid whispering in his ear, "Yeah, baby. Love it." Dean rubbed his hands down Sam's back, soft through the sweat-sheen, and said, "Love you when you come."

"No, you," Sam said, and he realized that he wasn't making any sense. He rolled off Dean and onto his side, back towards the fire. 

Now, as he watched Dean, caught up in the comedown, he could finally appreciate the light of the fire; shades of warmth played across Dean's face, lighting up his features, his freckles popping out sharp. "Dean," he said, and he ran his fingers along Dean's cheekbone, down his jaw.

Dean reached up and grabbed Sam's hand in his. "Merry Christmas, Sammy." 

"I'm so sorry, Dean. That was stupid, before." Sam squeezed back, though, smiled and shifted his eyes down and away. "Can't believe I acted like such a little kid."

"Hey," Dean said. He nudged Sam's chin, made him look up. "Doesn't even matter. Just forget about it." Weaving their fingers together, he said, "Don't you know I would do anything to take care of you?"

It wasn't just holidays that Dean took care of, either. He'd always had Sam's best interests in mind, and he'd always been there for Sam.

"I do, Dean," Sam said. "I do."

**Author's Note:**

> written for [SPN J2 Xmas](http://spn-j2-xmas.livejournal.com) Exchange 2012


End file.
